


Burn

by theLiterator



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Movie: Star Wars: The Last Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 21:00:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14317059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLiterator/pseuds/theLiterator
Summary: This isn't a solution, but it's what they're going with.





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zoe_Dameron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoe_Dameron/gifts).



When General Hux entered the hangar first, flanked by stormtroopers in flawless formation, Poe’s ever-present confidence in his own plan wavered. Then it crumbled. He was going to die, he realized with perfect clarity.

But at least he’d die protecting what little he’d left them with.

Then the blaster shots froze midair, and the blasters themselves flew away, and Kylo Ren pushed through that formation to glare at everyone. He was sweaty, covered in salt, and with that twist on his lips, he looked like the sort of holovid villain they’d always made fun of as children.

“You said to kill everyone in the base,” General Hux said with more than a touch of irritation. He had turned to face Ren and then, after a beat too long to be anything but deliberate, he saluted and added, “Supreme Leader.”

Huh, Poe thought. Aloud, he said “Hi! Did you miss me? I didn’t really get to make my goodbyes last time, which it occurs to me was probably rude, but then I heard the words ‘scheduled for execution’ and thought maybe a little rudeness would be fine, just the one time at least, you know?”

“What in the blazes are you going on about?” Hux demanded, and then he snapped his mouth shut like he hadn’t intended the outburst.

Poe grinned, mentally tallying the time, considering every second he could keep them here in the hanger as a second worth his life.

He may have doomed them all — he _had_ doomed them all — but he was going to make up for that for as long as he could.

“Yeah, also I sort of kidnapped a Stormtrooper, thinking about it. Or really, since they aren’t people to you guys, maybe I stole him? Either way, absconding with your hosts’ personal property is considered especially rude, right?”

“Poe,” Kylo said, sounding exhausted. Poe shut up and looked at him. Really looked at him.

There was an edge to him that Poe had only ever seen on his parents. The General’s resignation that too-often curved her lips, and the infamous smuggler’s tired, worn down tension that never quite left his lanky limbs, and it was strange, seeing both of them on Kylo’s body, in his face. It was strange because for everything that Kylo was, everything he’d made himself become, without the mask on he looked like one of them, had grown up beside him and had been one of the first who — 

“Where are they?” Kylo’s voice was even, collected, no matter how tired he looked.

There was a brush of power against his mind and Poe grinned at him. “Come on, you’d have to try harder than that, you know you do. Besides, it doesn’t matter. _I don’t know_.”

He didn’t, either. He’d insisted on that point.

_”He’s broken me before, General.”_

_”Poe, how will you find us?_

_”You know me, ma’am. I’ll figure it out.”_

He could see that Kylo had been the one to pull that memory to the forefront from the way he reeled back.

 _Really?_ he wanted to demand. _She’s your_ mother _, what are you so afraid of_.

He thought, though, that he knew. He remembered the way his heart had stuttered painfully in his chest when she’d broken through the barricade and drawn her weapon on the bridge, and if Kylo Ren had even a small portion of the love and respect for her that Poe still desperately cradled, then Poe definitely understood.

“He doesn’t know,” Kylo confirmed.

“Excellent. Kill him.”

“I want him alive,” Kylo countered, his voice vibrating with suppressed anger.

Hux saluted again, looking ready to commit murder, then turned to the troopers. “You, guard the prisoner. The rest of you, fan out, clear the cave.”

“There’s no one here,” Poe said, keeping his tone blandly cheerful. _I hope._

He was pretty sure that if Hux had been a different man, he’d have been on the receiving end of a rude gesture, but all Hux did was square his shoulders and stride off. As though he’d heard nothing. As though there was nothing to hear.

Kylo wandered through the cave theatrically, disappearing for the longest time into the room Leia had been using as her office, and when he emerged his hands were clenched into fists and his face… well.

“The mask thing wasn’t a terrible idea,” Poe told him when he came back over, standing too close in an effort to intimidate that just didn’t work when the man looked like he was on the verge of breaking down.

“Shut up!” Kylo snapped, and the troopers guarding Poe shifted uncomfortably. “Why are you still here? What was her plan? Why did she let you stay behind?”

Poe glanced over Kylo’s shoulder and then he carefully reached for Kylo’s clenched fists.

It was different like this, with no masks and Poe unrestrained. It shouldn’t have been different— Kylo Ren was still a monster in the skin of Poe’s old… of someone Poe had used to know, but it was harder to remember that. No matter how much they had changed, no matter how much things had changed around them, this… was familiar.

“I volunteered,” Poe said. “Figured we could use the distraction. Buy us time to escape, you know the sort of thing.”

“But why _you_?” Kylo demanded. He probably thought he was snarling, intimidating, but he sounded lost and wounded, and Poe squeezed his hands hard until the fists unclenched and his fingers curled with Poe’s.

“Who else?” Poe asked with a grin.

He didn’t point out that the caves were extensive and confusing and Kylo should have been the one leading the search, with his Force senses picking out the right path. He didn't point out that no matter what had driven the choice, it had _worked_. Instead, he just ran his thumbs over the backs of Kylo’s hands, brushing away the salt caked to his gloves, and tried to remember that this man was the one who had tortured him, who’d stolen things from his mind. 

He wasn’t the kid who had always been two steps behind him when they’d been young, tagging along on the ridiculous made up adventures Poe had invented for a willing cohort in the woods of Yavin IV.

“Stop that,” Kylo snapped, jerking his hands away. “That wasn’t real. None of that was real.”

“What?” Poe said. “I think I’d know if I’d imagined you tearing into my thoughts without per—“

“The boy on Yavin IV. He’s dead now.”

Poe bit his lip and after a few moments of silence (and wasn’t that rich, Poe Dameron without words because of the loss of some boy who had grown up), he turned to the ranking trooper nearby. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to escort me to the ship?” he asked, his voice too bright and too forced, just like everything between them had always been.

The trooper ignored him, and Poe shrugged. Nothing new there, after all. Kylo was still too close when he turned back, but he was biting his lip now and his whole body was rigid, tense.

That was familiar too. How many times had he survived a night of bombing, a night of hiding, a night of _being a Rebel_ , simply by lying close to someone familiar and tense from too much fighting? Was Poe falling into those old patterns now? He was scared to give himself long enough to find out, because Kylo looked about how Poe felt. And he couldn’t let himself be that vulnerable right now. Not when every second counted. Every heartbeat. Every breath.

If Poe just focused on the man in front of him, the man he’d been watching have an extended breakdown over the past several hours, first through binoculars and now in person, he didn’t have to think about—

“Stop.” Kylo was snarling now, and Poe took a step back, stumbling over a trooper and then taking another step when the trooper moved.

“If you don’t want to see what’s in my head, all you have to do is stay _out_ ,” Poe replied in a furious tone that surprised even himself.

Kylo lifted up a hand, then abruptly seemed to think better of it.

“Take him to my ship,” he snapped, and then he turned to stalk off into the depths of the caves. Poe watched him leave, wondering if the tension riding Kylo’s shoulders was from the ache Poe felt in his chest.

***

Kylo kept reaching — for the anger that was slipping through his grasp, for the hate, for — for _control_ , which had been what Snoke had always promised him; and he kept finding nothing.

He wanted to blame Commander Dameron, who had appeared like a ghost from his past — _twice_ now, haunting him as badly or worse than Skywalker, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

He just knew —

He couldn’t let him be killed.

It was something cold and twisting and wet in his chest that forced him to think such things, that reacted with a stark, brilliant fear that he could barely control and stopped a dozen blaster bolts mid-air.

Dameron had _touched_ him, and Kylo hadn’t known what to do, only realizing after he’d sent him away that he’d acquiesced to his wishes, however inadvertently.

The most frustrating thing was that even _that_ couldn’t make him angry. He felt only a sort of fatalistic resignation, the resignation that had been dogging him since the scavenger girl had refused him, and a soft susurrus in the Force that turned out to be General Hux returning with a hand on his blaster only served to frustrate him more.

Kylo glowered at him, and Hux saluted woodenly before saying, “No signs of them in the caverns.” His voice was crisp in the silence, the words carefully chosen, but as empty as the salute.

“Fine,” Kylo bit out. “We reconvene on the Harbinger. They’ll go to ground, now. There’s nothing left for them to do.”

“The Harbinger?” Hux demanded, and Kylo wanted to tear into him for his lack of respect, but without that sense of cold dread from earlier, with his anger at Skywalker and his mother spent against _nothing_ , all he could do was glare impotently. Finally, Hux remembered himself, and added “Supreme Leader.”

“It is the least damaged of the Destroyers,” Kylo said, “unless you suspect your captains of deception?”

It was as close to the sort of silky menace that Snoke had perfected that he could manage, especially with everything raw and jagged and cutting into him.

(It was supposed to have felt right. This was the goal, this was the win. This was exactly what he’d trained for, and still it raw and cutting and _wrong_ —)

Hux snorted and then gestured abruptly to the troopers that they were retreating.

The command shuttle was cramped, and, no doubt picking up on his mood, silent.

Commander Dameron had been bound to the navigator’s seat, and Kylo wordlessly pushed aside the pilot to take over there.

He needed to think, and he’d always been able to clear his mind when flying.

***

Three days had passed since Kylo Ren had ordered Poe confined to the flag quarters aboard the _Harbinger_ , and Poe had hardly seen him in that time.

It wasn’t that he missed the man, because he’d long since stopped missing Kylo Ren by _any_ name, but he was bored. And confused.

The ever-accumulating pile of flimsiplast documents on the real wood table that dominated the room that served as dual conference room and dining room held little of any interest to Poe; damage reports and the ever increasing demands for something resembling instruction from the newly minted Supreme Leader (and that had been a surprise) might have been useful if Poe was a spy, but as a somewhat disgraced pilot on a suicide mission, he couldn’t do much with them besides try to pass them on when he had a chance.

That morning he’d organized them by urgency and what he was pretty sure Leia would have done with them, but he doubted that Kylo would even notice. It had been pure boredom that sparked it, not any desire to help.

Kylo came and went from the suite, each time looking more exhausted and angry, and he barely acknowledged Poe’s existence even when he _was_ around.

With him came a mixture of First Order brass and what Poe assumed must pass for politicians on the backwater worlds the First Order had taken over.

None of them seemed to like Kylo any better than Kylo liked them.

“We’re meeting up with the rest of the fleet tonight,” Kylo snapped at him.

Poe raised an eyebrow at him, curious but not wanting to let on that he was.

“Can’t you —” Kylo started to say, and then he whirled and punched a very expensive looking bit of abstract decoration.

“Can’t you just _react_?” Kylo demanded.

“React to what?”

Kylo didn’t answer, just started pacing.

“General Hux has been hounding you to move to the _Incendite_ the entire time I’ve been here. He wants that second flag cabin so he can woo the politicians without you,” Poe said, trying for ‘reaction’.

“No, I didn’t mean… that. You could, you could… plan things, you know?”

“Plan what?”

Kylo snarled and ran his hands through his hair angrily, jerking at the ends and pressing his eyes so tightly closed the lids creased. “You haven’t even _tried_ to leave these rooms!”

Poe looked between Kylo and the door and bit his lip, thinking about it.

“I mean,” he said. “You have the door guarded, don’t you?”

Kylo turned to glare at him. “I don’t have _time_ for this, okay? The _Silencer_ has hyper capability,” he added, apropos of nothing, and then he stormed into the attached bedroom and engaged the privacy lock.

Poe picked up the most urgent pile of flimsiplasts and started reading through them again.

It was better than anything else he could possibly be doing right then.

They might have been useful to a Resistance spy, but the Resistance barely even existed anymore, and Poe was just a pilot. If he was even that anymore, given the lack of things to fly.

***

Another week passed, and still Dameron didn’t run. Kylo was sick with it — he couldn’t kill the commander, could hardly bring himself to look at him, and Poe _wouldn’t run_.

Instead, Poe — _Dameron_ — lurked in the much larger flag quarters Kylo had ostensibly locked him in, sorting through the paperwork that Kylo insisted on having in hardcopy and, aside from occasional comms to what he had to assume were Resistance dead drops, he did nothing.

He wore the plain First Order uniforms he’d been given without complaint, he ate when he was given food, and he made himself scarce when Kylo couldn’t avoid having important conversations with people who believed themselves worthy of his time. Otherwise, he simply hovered on the periphery of Kylo’s frustrating existence as Supreme Leader and didn’t intrude.

Somehow, the thought of Poe Dameron having been reduced (reduced?) to that sat heavily on him. It wasn’t even something he could mention, which only made it all the more maddening.

Kylo walked into his quarters and made a beeline to the desk that Poe managed, sitting down and pulling out the folder of flimsies that he’d finally realized were meant to be the urgent ones, and then blinked at them in horrified fascination.

The pilot had given him _notes_.

He stared at the sketched-in advice; handwritten because once, a long time ago, a little boy on Yavin IV had cornered his older friend and insisted on showing him his new pens; and embraced the sudden roaring tide of _fury_ that rushed through him.

He stood back up and slammed everything from the surface of his desk to the floor, regretting it almost immediately, and stormed into the sitting room to glare at Commander Dameron.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Kylo demanded.

He’d asked the question a dozen times, and Dameron had deflected him each time, furrowing his brow and grinning a lopsided grin that Ben Solo had been hopelessly in love with up to the day Kylo Ren had scourged him from his consciousness, but this time, he looked up from the flimsiplast he was staring at, borrowed pen tucked between his teeth, and just looked —

Well, he looked _lost_ suddenly, and Kylo ruthlessly quelled his instinct to go to him for as long as he could before, as always, that _boy_ won out and he was sitting next to Poe on the couch with his hands clenched into fists and draped awkwardly on his lap.

“You ordered me brought here,” Poe said. “You’re keeping me prisoner.”

“I —” he didn’t want to say it out loud, but he thought maybe Poe would make him. He had removed the safeguards on his personal craft, had made sure that the Stormtroopers at the door knew to escort Poe anywhere he wished to go on the ship, had — he’d done everything he could to get rid of Commander Dameron short of escorting him to a neutral planet himself, really.

His hand twitched, that horrible, gnawing _conflict_ rising up, no longer needing Snoke to stoke it. He glanced to the side, where Poe’s fingers were too tense, too stiff — 

“Anyway,” Poe said. “Here. I wasn’t going to let you see this one, but _here_.”

Kylo quickly scanned the document, then forced himself to stop, to reread it slowly, carefully.

“You committed _mutiny_?” Kylo demanded, shocked to his very core.

Something cold and aching welled up in his guts at the look on Poe’s face, confirmation and self-loathing and —

He reached for Poe’s hand without thinking, and when Poe’s fingers curled into his, he couldn’t bring himself to rectify the misstep.

This misstep would lead to another, and to another, and then it would lead back to the place they’d been before. Some part of him had never left that place. Especially not when Poe looked at him like this, tired and desperate, like Kylo had some kind of answer for him. But the only answers Kylo had left now were the wrong ones. The ones Poe wouldn’t even know how to listen to. It didn’t stop him from remembering the crush of Poe’s mouth against his, the sweat and the muffled noises they’d made.

“I thought it was the only way,” Poe said, and for a moment, Kylo thought maybe _he_ had seen — 

“But it all led directly to Hux finding our transports. It wasn’t…” He shook his head.

The relief was overwhelming, a flood against his overly aware senses. Poe didn’t know he was still — that he remembered the boys they’d been. Couldn’t know.

“You should have seen her,” Poe continued, and the image that flashed across his mind was bright and brutal, Leia Organa, a force of nature in her fury, in her disappointment, and…

It was colder than the relief had been.

“Trust me,” Kylo said. “I know what she looked like.”

Poe snorted. “So we’re acknowledging that she’s your mother again? I can never tell where we’re at on that.”

Kylo jerked away, but there wasn’t more a hint of maliciousness directed his way in Poe’s mind. All he was was a vortex of self-loathing, and Kylo couldn’t even blame him. He held the fimsie tight, and tried to be happy about the number at the bottom, circled twice over: the intelligence division’s best guess at the number of currently active members of the Resistance.

***  
Kylo and he had entered a sort of uneasy peace ever since Poe had shown him the intelligence report on the mutiny, and they’d been carefully circling each other since them, interacting more.

It was cautious, but it was familiar. They’d done that sort of wary dance once before, after the first time, after that kiss and their first stolen night. Neither of them had known what to do, how to act around each other, but they’d found their footing then. It somehow didn’t surprise Poe that they were doing the same thing now.

Poe had unofficially taken over Kylo’s correspondence, which wasn’t something he’d ever pictured for himself, but Poe was pretty sure that if the brewing military coup that Kylo was completely oblivious to _did_ happen, Poe would be the second person dead.

Besides, he wasn’t sure what would happen if Kylo actually did realize about the coup. It would probably not be good, and once Kylo was ousted from his ill-suited role as Supreme Leader, the First Order would be both organized and motivated enough to take out the handful of remaining Resistance fighters, and the idea of _that_ made Poe quail to his very soul.

“Commander Dameron,” General Hux said as he entered the sitting room that was nominally Poe’s.

Poe scrambled to his feet and regretted having decided against boots that morning when he’d gotten up.

“General Hux!” Poe said. “Good to finally talk to you. I never did get to deliver that message from General Organa — How _is_ your —”

“I’m surprised you’re still interested in that, given that from all accounts she _shot you_ for gross insubordination and treason.” Hux interrupted, his manner unpleasantly, characteristically, sharp.

Poe sucked in air. He knew he was breathing, but suddenly, he didn’t feel like it. Kylo might be just as happy about that apparent break in loyalties as Hux was, but he at least _got_ what disappointing Leia felt like.

He at least understood that Poe wouldn’t have done that if he’d seen any other choice.

“Sure,” Poe managed. “What’s a little mutiny between a girl and her flyboy?”

Hux snorted, his gaze piercing as it roved up and down Poe’s woefully underdressed form. He suddenly felt very short, which was ridiculous since Hux wasn’t all that much taller than Kylo.

The second Hux took over, the galaxy was _definitely_ screwed.

“How are you settling in?” Hux asked. “I know the Supreme Leader can be… volatile.”

Poe forced himself to grin, but he knew it came out sick and pained looking, and Hux settled back on his heels, quietly pleased.

“Oh you know how it is,” Poe said. “I’ve known him since we were kids; although I guess your intelligence people probably told you that. I’m used to his —”

He waved his arm casually, not sure how to finish the sentence, wanting the conversation to be over.

“Fits of pique?” Hux suggested. His eyes glinted with some steely conclusion that Poe didn’t really want to guess at.

He wrapped his arms around his torso and shrugged uneasily.

“What do you know about the designs of our light fighters?” Hux asked suddenly, and thrown by the conversational shift, Poe flinched a little.

“Well, I hear the TIE Silencer is hyper-capable,” Poe blurted out, falling back on sass for lack of anything better. Leia had told him once that he never resembled his mother so much as when he was thrown off guard, and that held as true now as it ever had, he thought.

“Good,” Hux said. “Excellent. I’m glad to hear it. Well.” Hux pulled out his service weapon and offered it to Poe grip first, and Poe took a long few seconds to stare at it.

The metal was very bright in the cabin lights, and the grip seemed utterly foreign. As though Poe had never seen a blaster before.

“Oh,” Poe said. Well. He should, he supposed, have seen this coming. Hux would assume that if he wanted Kylo dead, Poe would be on his side.

And Poe — well. Poe should be on Hux’s side. Or on the against-Kylo Ren side, rather, except that Kylo at least was keeping the First Order as a mess of political jockeying and constant infighting.

Hux was a lot scarier than that.

Poe forced himself to take the blaster, to buy himself some time to _think_ , and Hux smiled at him, and walked out.

***

It would have been easier, if Kylo had been in what passed as a good mood when he came back that night.

Poe had tucked the blaster into the imperial service jacket he’d been given and then put on boots.

It had seemed like the thing to do.

“Dameron,” Kylo said on a low growl, picking up the tray of food that had been delivered hours before and retreating into the office.

For the first time since they’d been on the _Incendite_ , Poe followed him, and Kylo froze in the act of sitting down, gazing at Poe with an intensely vulnerable expression that Poe was finding harder and harder to ignore.

Give him a week and he’d be openly helping Kylo, he thought with some despair.

Maybe Leia had been wrong to set her weapon on stun.

“Don’t!” Kylo snapped, surprising them both if his expression was anything to go by. “Don’t… don’t ever think that. If you want to die, I will happily kill you, but leave _her_ out of it.”

“What do you even care?” Poe demanded.

“Can you even — she _loves_ you. She’s always loved you better. You can’t — _you_ don’t get to do that to her.”

Poe stared at him, struck speechless for a few moments. He’d thought they’d been getting along better, but maybe it was all just an illusion he’d built for his own peace of mind. Kylo took the time to settle himself at the desk and pull the “urgent” folder toward himself with the expression of a man facing his execution.

“Kylo,” Poe said, and then he shook his head, biting his lip. “Ben.” He said it firmly, sort of a question, sort of an announcement.

The anger that flashed through Kylo’s eyes chilled the air tangibly, and Poe forged ahead because he never could do anything else. “Why are _you_ here? I mean… you don’t want this, you were never any good at politics. I know your mom offered to mentor you a hundred times, but all you ever wanted was…” He shook his head. “Not this, at least.”

“Supreme Leader Snoke is dead,” Kylo said. “I was his apprentice. It falls to me to —”

“Bullshit,” Poe said, cutting him off. “Your military advisors are staging a coup, you know that? I’ve underlined all the indicators, and you’re lucky no one has tried to poison you in one of those horrible meals.”

“I have it under control,” Kylo retorted. “You may leave.”

Poe took the blaster Hux had given him out of his jacket and slammed it on the desk. The silence that fell after was thick. It was tangible in a way that nothing between them ever had been.

They both stared at it. Not for the first time, Poe realized he didn’t need the Force to know what Kylo was thinking.

“No,” Poe said, his voice low and rougher than he’d intended, “you don’t.”

Kylo leaned forward and rubbed his eyes, drawing attention to the fact that they looked bruised from the vast amounts of sleep he _wasn’t_ getting. Poe knew exactly how much that was, because every moment that Kylo paced in these quarters, Poe could feel him. He replayed nights from their past in his head over and over, and he wondered whether that would work to get the man to sleep.

Kylo finally huffed out a betrayed sort of laugh and then leaned all the way back in his chair.

“Well?” he demanded.

Poe looked between him and the blaster, realization dawning. He _hadn’t_ known about the impending coup.

Or maybe he just hadn’t cared.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said incredulously. “First of all, the only difference between assassination and _murder_ is politics. Second of all, I currently do have some small hope of your mother one day forgiving me. I’m not about to throw _that_ away, which you should already know.”

“And third?” Kylo asked, staring at him with the unsettling intensity that meant that he was using the Force to read him.

Poe stared back and calmly thought about the very last time he’d seen Ben Solo. They’d been young and ridiculous, both just out of adolescence and looking forward the grand adventures of their respective callings. He thought about the way his heart had swooped and his whole body felt afire when Ben smiled a twisted little grin that was tiny and meant only for _Poe_.

“C’mon, Ben,” he said, the use of that name just as deliberate now as it had been before. “Don’t make me say it out loud — you’d be making you listen to it too, you know?”

Kylo licked his lips and then glanced at the gleaming blaster again.

“What do you want to do instead, then?”

Poe laughed. “I just want to go home, you know?” he said.

“Why haven’t you?”

“I can’t go back to Yavin IV, not like this,” he said. “I can’t — what would my dad even _say?_.”

Poe thought from Kylo’s expression that maybe he’d misunderstood what Poe had meant by _home_ , and was relieved to learn it .

“I do miss the forest,” Kylo said softly. “The way a forest just… breathes within the Force, it’s nice. Soothing.”

Poe laughed again.

“Lots of planets with forests,” he offered. Kylo looked at the blaster again, and then nudged it back toward Poe.

“And then what?”

“I guess… I guess then Hux gets to rule the galaxy,” Poe said.

Kylo grimaced, obviously liking that idea about as much as Poe did.

“We’ll figure something out,” he mumbled, shuffling paperwork.

He stood up then, and raked Poe with a piercing gaze that did not make him uncomfortable at all. He stepped in close, too close all over again, but then again, everything they’d ever done had been this way. He was close enough that Poe could feel it when he breathed.

His lips practically brushed against Poe’s when he murmured, “I assume you have a plan?”

“Well, I have it on good authority that the TIE SIlencer has a hyperdrive.”

Kylo laughed and turned it into a kiss, and maybe Poe was delusional, and maybe this was just one more terrible decision he was making in a lifetime of terrible decisions, but Kylo was the one who reached for him, this time, and Poe took his hand and it _felt_ like the right one.


End file.
